The Fake Girlfriend Rules

The orgasm explodes like a super nova, showering my body with hot sparks. My muscles stiffen as the feeling zips through my body, running from head to toe. Doug's cock throbs in my heat as he throws himself in one last time, and his cock shoots hot cum.

It flows from his pulsing dick, filling me to the point I can feel it spilling out. The beads of sweat at the base of my neck break free, slipping down the curve of my neck and dropping to the couch.

I can't move. I'm intoxicated, but not from alcohol. I'm drunk on him. I don't even want to move. I just want to stay here like this in a forever bliss.

He falls onto my back, resting his head on my shoulder. We're both breathing heavy, our skin sweaty and flushed. Doug pulls his cock free, and I finally get the strength to crawl onto the couch. He lays down beside me and grabs the throw blanket off the back of the couch to cover us.

I can't even think straight right now. My brain is a pile of mush, and my eyes are sleepy. We snuggle together. He curls his arm around my stomach and pulls me in against his chest. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I'm afraid to close them.

Falling asleep means tomorrow has to come, and we can no longer live in right now. It means all this ends.

With one final blink, the lights go out.

My eyes are blurry as I open them. The sun is casting long dancing arms in the living room, flooding the room with bright light. There's something heavy around my chest. I rub my eyes and when I open them again, I realize it's Doug.

Shit. Did we really. . . I lift the blanket and see that we're both naked. Damn it. We did.

Memories of last night flood my mind with erotic images. His lips, his hands, his cock deep in my pussy. Something catches my attention from the corner of my eyes. I look down and see his morning wood standing up like a proud statue.

Maybe we can pretend last night didn't end and we never went to sleep?

Round two? I think to myself as his cock bounces slightly in the air, pushing firmly against the thin blanket. I could climb on him right now and take him for myself. The temptation grows, making my nipples hard and my pussy wet.

No. You already messed up once, you can't do it again.

We're friends, and that's how it needs to stay.

“Good morning,” he says. “Like what you see?” he asks with a sleepy smile.

“Morning,” I sit up and steal most of the blanket to cover myself with. Wrapping it around my chest, I yawn. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“I do. Do you?”

“I do.”

We sit in awkward silence for a long second. He looks off into the room and stretches his arms over his head.

“And?” I ask.

“And what? Last night was last night, today's a new day.” He keeps his eyes on mine.

“That's it?”

“That's it. Why make it more than it was? Want some breakfast?” He avoids the elephant in the room about what happened, and the lines we crossed together.

I can't bring myself to dive any deeper into it. I already feel awkward that we allowed ourselves to ignore the rules. It's both our faults for going too far. It's not anymore his fault than it is mine. It takes two to tango as my mother likes to say. So, I accept his dismissal.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

He stands up casually, his morning wood still standing at attention. He doesn't even try to cover himself up at all.

“Um, you uh. . .” I stutter out as I block my eyes. “You're uh, hanging out there.”

“What? It's not like you haven't seen it now.” Looking around, he walks to the edge of the couch, picks up his boxers, and slips them back on. “Eggs and toast sound good?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say as I swaddle my body in the blanket and stand. “Maybe some blueberries too?”

“Looks like someone worked up an appetite last night,” he says as he strolls into the kitchen.

“Is this what I can expect now?”

“What am I doing? I'm just making breakfast.” The cupboards creek and crack as he opens them.

“No, these little comments. Either we forget it happened or we need to talk about it.”

He sets a pan on the stove, moving around the kitchen and getting everything else he needs. I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, but we're both adults, we should be able to have a conversation, square it away, and move on.

“Well?” I ask, picking up the bottom of the blanket as I take a couple steps forward.

Doug's phone pings. “Oh, can you grab that for me?” he asks, ignoring me.